Crazy Love
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Richard and Isobel, and hiding their relationship. Probably a season 2 AU.
1. Chapter 1

It has grown to be like a madness. Since the first time he had her in his arms, every time he has held her it has increased, grown headier, fuller, sweeter and still more desperate. He has never known anything to be like this, he has never felt like this before. He has read psychoanalysis of infatuation, and there is something missing, something that the textbooks don't cover, when he thinks of what he feels for Isobel, when he thinks of how he feels when he is with her. Love is almost too fickle a word. He loves her like a madness.

He is usually such a temperate man. Something in her makes him fierce. He would kill for her, and he would die for her in a moment. He wonders if she knows this, if she could ever guess at it.

He can stand there and watch her, just watch her. He cannot do anything else, he is drawn in, watching her movements.

She catches his eye before she knows it, and a smile slips onto her face.

They could have been anywhere. It happens that they are at the Abbey. Dinner has been eaten, and he is effectively waiting for the time when he can go. He will leave before her, no one knows, only they know. Sometimes he finds it incredible: how can everyone not know? Isn't his love for her written all over his face, isn't it burning up his body? Surely this thing is too powerful to only exist between the two of them.

She is still smiling at him, and he smiles back. His heart is hammering. She is coming towards him.

"They want me to stay here for the night," she tells him quietly, glancing behind her, checking that no one can see the way she leans in towards his ear with her lips.

He can feel her breath on his neck.

"I said no, of course."

He lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

"Thank you," he tells her sincerely, in a low voice.

She is standing very close to him, their noses are almost touching.

"I want to get out of here," she tells him in barely more than a whisper, "I want to be with you."

"Pretend you're sick," he tells her, half pleading, "Say you need to be taken home."

He thinks his face might be flushed with the wine and with the want. He doesn't care, and nor does she. Her eyes glimmer a little as she looks at him.

"So you can examine me?" she suggests quietly, cocking her head a little to the side.

"Please, Isobel," he murmurs quietly, "Not here. I can't stand it."

Briefly, quickly, her gloved hand slips into his and squeezes it tightly. Suddenly, all pretence and all mirth is gone from her face and she looks completely serious.

"I'll tell Cora I'm not feeling well," she told him, "I imagine she'll send you to check on me before ten minutes is up. It'll be perfect," there was a pause, their eyes did not part, "I'm so in love with you, Richard."

He thought he was going to break; for sure he was going to break, he was going to lean in and kiss her and everything would be known. He felt himself leaning forwards.

She moved just in time. She gave him a wary look.

"Later, Richard. Not much later," she whispered.

And then she was gone, across the room, heading for Lady Grantham.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	2. Chapter 2

He left at the first suggestion from the family that it might be appropriate that he should follow her and check on her. He slipped out of the front door with great relief, and walked quickly, undoing the top button of his uniform as he went.

It was very dark. He had not wanted to wait for the motor to be called. Better to set off and know that every step was bringing him closer to her. He breathed the cold air heavily, hoping it would calm him down. He felt frantic. He felt as if the weight in his chest was physically slowing him. He would kill to have his bicycle now, it didn't matter that his hands were probably shaking too much to steer.

He tried to think of other things to take his mind off what he was heading towards. Nothing worked. He could only think of her.

It was insane. This was like unrequited love. It was more desperate than when his love for her had been unrequited, because now he knew how sweet the realised of it was. Every time they were apart it seemed to rage more strongly. The only thing that could abate it was to make love to her, to make love to her, to make love to her.

He had a key to Crawley House, and let himself quietly in, locking the door behind him. The servants were sure to be in bed. He put his hat and gloves down on the table, swiftly removing his jacket and hanging it up. Much as he was grieved to acknowledge it, he would have gone before Molesley had the chance to see it, he and, probably Isobel too, would be at the hospital by then. He mounted the stairs two at a time, it his shirt sleeves and braces.

The light was on Isobel's room, and the door was slightly open.

She was waiting for him, there was no doubt of in. Sitting on the side of her bed, wearing her nightdress, her hair trailing down her back. There was even a fire in the grate, flickering away, casting fluttering lights over her skin. She saw him, and he came to her and sank to his knees before her, kneeling between her legs and wrapping his arms around her. He could feel her body so blissfully close to his.

"Dear God woman, I've wanted you so much," he whispered hoarsely, "You have no idea."

Their lips met. Her fingers wrapped into his hair, brushing against his scalp. He tipped his head back, leaning so that she could kiss his, exploring her mouth with his tongue as his fingers journeyed eagerly under her nightdress, up her bare legs.

Her lips broke away from his, gasping, as his fingers reached her centre.

"Richard-..."

"Darling, Isobel, darling-... Let me do this for you. Please."

She allowed him to push her back onto the bed, sighing contentedly as she felt his lips on the inside of her thigh.

The pain was gone, the heaviness in his chest gone. It was as if the heat of her and the softness of her skin were an immediate balm that cured him at the touch.

"Isobel," he hummed her name against her, taking soft, wet labia into his mouth.

She gave quiet yelp of surprise and her body jerked with pleasure. He drank in the taste of her. He watched her, he fixed his eyes on her as he pleasured her. He needed to see her. He teased her folds apart with his tongue, sucked her clitoris with his lips until she came hard against his mouth.

He eased himself up from the floor, lay beside her as she breath heavily, her body shaking. Her nightdress was drenched in sweat and he helped her out of it, throwing it on the floor, lying down to stroke her back and soothe her. Her eyes were closed as her body stilled.

"Richard."

"Yes, my love?"

"Take your clothes off. We need to make love." 

"Oh, darling," he exhaled, immediately removing his braces and beginning to take off his shirt, "It's been so long."

She rolled onto her back.

"Too long," she agreed.

He stood up, removing his trousers, undershorts, shoes and socks before lying back down next to her, on his side. She frowned a little, turning back towards him, her hands on his chest. She kissed him, and he let her for moment.

"My darling," he told her, "I've been thinking."

She raised an eyebrow, seeming surprised that he was telling her this now.

"Oh yes?" she asked.

He had to tell her now. Only now did he feel brave enough, with the wine he had consumed at dinner, and seeing her as he had done a few moments ago; he had to tell her now. He looked into her eyes.

"I'm insanely in love with you. I can't be without you any more."

"Darling," her face creased in sadness, "You're with me now." Her hand touched the back of his neck, her fingers stroking almost plaintively. "I know we can't make love very often when we're at the hospital every day God sends," she admitted, "But I give you all I can."

His confusion lifted, and his incredulity set in. She had thought he was criticising her.

"Oh my darling, I know you do, I know you do."

He kissed her passionately, taking her fully into his arms, rolling over her, and pressing their bodies together. He wanted his love to suffuse into her.

"You give me everything," he told her, staring into her eyes, "I'm asking you to marry me."

He said it because he had to. He had to quell the look in her eyes, the sadness. He knew she deserved a better proposal than this, him on one knee rather than pinning her to the bed, but she needed to hear it now.

She was looking at him in total surprise.

"I hate the nights I spend without you. I hate every moment that we're apart. Marry me?"

"Oh, God, Richard, yes," she whispered.

He kissed her passionately.

"Darling," she murmured as their lips parted, "Make love. Please."

He did. And the pain was gone. It was so easy. He pushed inside her and rocked her gently, caressing her face and hair and breasts, whispering and kissing his love onto her skin.

Their fingers wrapped together and they let themselves go, knowing that each would catch the other.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

When he woke up she was not lying beside him any longer. She was sitting at the side of the bed, in her silky burgundy dressing gown, her honey-coloured hair tipped down her back. He raised his hand, softly touched the bottom of her back, letting her know that he was awake. She turned her head towards him and smiled softly.

"Hello," she murmured.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied gently, reaching out, gently brushing her hand against his face in return, "I couldn't sleep. I just lay there for a while, watching you. Then I needed a glass of water."

"You couldn't sleep?" he asked.

Of all the various troubles they had at the moment, sleeplessness was not often one. Lacking the opportunity to sleep perhaps, but never eventual insomnia once they found themselves trying to sleep.

"I know," she told him, lying back down beside him, "It is a little odd."

His hands reached out and held her waist, spreading around her back, pulling her closer. He bowed his head almost reverently towards her, kissing the base of her neck once before resting his head on her collarbone.

He felt the small movement of her face as she smiled. Her arm wrapped over his back, her hand resting in his hair.

"You know why I couldn't sleep?" she asked him softly, "I was thinking about marrying you."

He thought nothing could have made him move his head from her chest, but he fond he had to look at her, he had to see her face as she said this.

"Were you?" he asked.

"Yes," she smiled, "I was too excited to sleep. I can't quite believe it. This is what I've wanted for so long."

"Is it?" he asked, "Why didn't you say? I can't think of a day when I wouldn't have married since-..."

"Since when?" she pressed.

"Since the day you put that adrenaline in my hand," he told her, "I've loved you so much. I would have married you on any day that you asked for it."

She pressed her lips to his, kissing him soundly.

"Let's get married tomorrow," she whispered to him.

"Isobel-..." he smiled.

"I mean it," her voice was serious, "Get a special licence. Go to the registrar in York. It's your day off and I'm sure Cousin Cora will be only too glad to take over from me at the house for a few hours. We'll go to York," she was talking quickly, excitedly, "Stay here tonight. We'll go together in the morning."

His heart was suddenly racing. 

"Are you sure you don't want anyone there?" he asked, "There won't be time-..."

"You're the only person I want there," she replied, "Matthew's in France. We can wire him from the post office to tell him."

He could not think of a single rational ground to object. He did not want to object. His hand was shaking as he cupped her face.

"I don't even have a ring for you," he told her weakly.

"I don't care," she kissed him fiercely, "I only want you. I want you to be here with me every night. That's all I want."

**Please review if you have the time.**


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